


The Rise and Fall

by WintersCurse



Series: Rewire [1]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: CPTSD, Child Abuse, Flashbacks, Mal centric, Physical Abuse, non explicit torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersCurse/pseuds/WintersCurse
Summary: Angsty flashback fic because I'm angsty and get flashbacks(Aka Mal complains about Auradon and gets a flashback to Maleficent being a Terrible mother)
Series: Rewire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073525
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	The Rise and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags for this one!!!

The beds in Auradon were horrible for sleeping on. They were too soft, too big- and abyss that would suck Mal in and make her forget who and where she was. A fluffy mess of oversized pillows and blankets that were a little bit itchy and covered in holes- but they weren’t holes like the ones in Isle blankets. No. These were intentional, _stylish_ holes. 

And somehow this made them _appropriate_ blankets for Auradon. Unlike the blanket Mal had bought with her and had quickly been thrown out and replaced by Audrey. Without even asking and somehow _Mal_ was in the wrong for breaking her nose. 

No. They were _appropriate_ blankets that covered the pink bed perfectly, and could not be moved or crumpled. 

That would be a disgrace. And while Mal couldn’t care less about the eyeroll and condescending lecture Audrey would give about it, or the cute little amused laugh from Ben, FG’s sigh still made Mal tense. Tense and unsure and angry. 

But a room inspection wasn’t due for another three days, and there was one use the bed _did_ have. 

Wrestling. 

It was a skill Mal wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, alongside poisons and rock climbing and pick pocketing. 

But Auradon didn’t approve of wrestling in any scenario. Only gentlemanly sports where people were bowled over by heavy sticks, not other bodies. 

Ben said it was because the risk of injury was too high in wrestling, and it made a mess everywhere, and it was stressful for anyone who might witness it. 

Mal’s only response to that is that getting jumped and being unable to defend yourself is far more stressful. But it’s not like anyone would listen to her. 

Evie said it was because anything involving body contact was too sexual for Auradon.

Which tracked, really. Everything was too sexual, or too violent, or too disturbing, or just too _much_ for Auradon. 

Though, Mal really didn’t know how wrestling was too sexual. There was nothing sexual about trying to avoid having her nose broken and keys stolen by Jay. 

Or trying to knee Jay in the gut because he already had her pinned down and there was no way she was doing his homework. 

She could barely manage her own. 

But Jay was determined to win. He already had her pinned down, his silky hair falling into her eyes and mouth. 

“Just accept defeat,” Jay laughed. “Stop being such a brat-” 

Jay’s rough hands turned to cold, unforgiving metal against Mal’s wrists. Whatever was against her back was hard and spikey and dug into her skin through her thin shirt. Her head pounded and there was blood in her mouth and bruises on her ribs and scratches on her thighs. 

And her hair was long, and her horns still stubs against her skull. And she felt so much smaller and lighter and more fragile than she had in a long time. 

So much more exposed and vulnerable. 

“-I’m making you stronger,” Maleficent chided. 

There were nails digging into Mal’s collarbones, and heavy iron burning her tongue. A thousand voices whispered and cackled in her head, hot pain dancing through her veins. 

None of that mattered. Mal could ignore that. She was strong enough to ignore that. 

But she couldn’t ignore her mother’s eyes glowing in the hazy darkness. Cutting through it cleanly, like sharp knives or laser beams. 

Bright green eyes. 

Piercing green. 

Hypnotising and unforgiving and unbending. 

Drawing Mal in so she could drown in them. Lose herself, her free will, her soul, her perception of the world around her. 

Lose the little feelings of adrenaline of running the show, the rush of joy from people on the Isle running from her in terror. 

Mal wasn’t the alpha, or the master. She wasn’t even important. 

All Mal was, all Mal had ever been was a blind puppet people left alone in fear of coming face to face with the one that pulled the strings. 

And this was how she fell. 

Everything was fading into the sharp pain that traced parallel lines on her back, the pinch of iron against her wrists. 

The fear that came from knowing this would never end. She couldn’t die. Not on the Isle. And Maleficent was nothing if not patient. 

“Don’t be such a brat, Mal,” Maleficent hissed. “I’m doing what’s best for you. Take it like a grown up. It’s ok-” 

“-it’s ok,” Jay’s voice cuts through. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” 

There’s the cold, bitter air of the Isle piercing her lungs, but also the soft smell of Auradon surrounding her. Through the silence there was the rustling of something, and Jay’s voice, grounding her. 

Pulling her back out of her eight year old body and back into the present. 

She was caught in between. A hand on her, somewhere, that she can’t work out who it belongs to. Something cold against her ankle that doesn’t quite sting like iron. Piercing green eyes, but also the rise and fall of Jay's chest against hers. 

“I’ve got you.”


End file.
